Summary: Thoughts of a sinner.
To ere is human, to forgive is divine. Or so the saying goes. And so he prayed in his off-handed, not really a prayer sort of way, that when it came time for him to be judged, he would be forgiven his sins. For his sins were many and they grew larger by the day. His life was written in sin, from the day he was born, ripped from his mother's womb as she lay dying on the hospital table, until the present day, where another man lay dying at his feet, twitching futily as he took in his last breath.
"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be His name."
The words fell from his lips absently, a litany used so often that it needed to conscious thought as trigger.
"Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. On Earth as it is in heaven."
Hollow words for a hollow heart. He stowed his gun, slipped it away in the folds of his coat as he did a triple check to make sure there was no evidence left behind.
"Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."
He said this, not for his own soul, but as a vague last rite for the dying man. Would a prayer said by a killer even be heard?
"And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil."
There was no saving him from evil. He was too deep in the business. So far gone that it'd be his own body lying at the feet of an assassin if he tried to get out now.
"For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory. Now and forever."
The only grace he had left to hope for in life was that he'd be forgiven in the end. That his sins would be overshadowed by the sins of the men he killed. He killed one man and saved thousands, or so he liked to believe. That was the beauty of the game. You could make yourself out to be the hero, saving the world from evil.
But he knew what he was. He didn't try to hid behind masks or glorify his crimes. He was an assassin. He killed for money and there was no glory in ending a life.
One last glance was spared for the dead man, his head tilted to the side as he lay on his stomach with his blood pooling around him.
One last duty.
He turned the man over, shut his eyes. Three coins emerged from his pocket. Two for the eyes, one under the tongue. He stood and walked away.